


Stay

by jensenacklesruinedmylife



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x03, Fluff, M/M, Season 9, What if?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-25
Updated: 2013-10-25
Packaged: 2017-12-30 10:05:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1017303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jensenacklesruinedmylife/pseuds/jensenacklesruinedmylife
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Cas was the one who told Dean that he couldn't stay with them? </p><p>
  <i>“I can’t stay.”</i>
</p><p>
  <i>The words leave Castiel’s mouth, but Dean doesn’t exactly hear them. Or believe them.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>“I’m sorry, what?”</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay

“I can’t stay.”

The words leave Castiel’s mouth, but Dean doesn’t exactly hear them. Or believe them.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“I cannot stay here, Dean.”

Dean blinks, twice. He hears the words this time, loud and clear. But his mind is still trying to decode them.

“You can’t stay,” he repeats, slowly, as Cas nods.

“Yes,” he says, like it’s so simple, like it’s easy, like it’s not tearing Dean apart on the inside.

“Why the hell not?” Dean barely restrains screaming, because they _just_ got him back, he just got his angel back, _alive_ (thank Zeke), and now, Cas wants to go? It doesn’t make sense; it’s like a slap in the face, and all the while, Dean’s still trying to wrap his head around the fact that Cas isn’t a virgin anymore. It bothers him.

“I am still hunted,” Cas says, “and if April found me, than these sigils in my skin must not work too well.” He hangs his head and sighs, looking ashamed. “I should have known –.”

“What? Cas, no no no, look at me,” Dean pulls out a chair and sits directly in front of the fallen angel. He leans forward and plants his hands on Cas’s knees, pleads, “Look at me, Cas.”

The other man raises his head enough to meet Dean’s eyes, “You’re going to tell me… that it wasn’t my fault.”

“That’s exactly what I’m gonna tell you, because it’s true,” Dean replies firmly, and when Cas tries to look away again, Dean takes on hand and cups his jaw, forcing Cas to look at him. “This, _none of this_ , is your fault.”

“Dean –.”

“No,” Dean shakes his head, his eyes never leaving Cas’s glistening blues. He thinks there are tears there, but he doesn’t mention it. “No, you are not going to sit here and blame yourself for all of this. Metatron tricked you, didn’t he? You trusted him, and he turned out to be an absolute dick. That’s not your fault, man! Please tell me you understand that.”

Castiel takes a moment to respond. Dean assumes he’s trying to cope with the physical counterpart that usually accompanies extreme emotion, or something. Sam would know.

“You will never be safe with me here,” Cas says, and Dean has to remind himself that he means Sam and Kevin, too. “I do not want to put you all at risk.”

“Don’t I – don’t _we_ get a say in this, then? If you want to leave because you think it’s –.”

“I am hunted, Dean!” Cas yells, and Dean doesn’t expect the sting that comes with it. He pulls away, leaning back in his chair. Cas just starts at him, as if that would explain it all, as if the conversation’s over. When Dean doesn’t say a word after a minute, Cas continues. “Bartholomew is powerful; he has followers, and people who will do anything for him. He sent a reaper after me, and there will be others. I don’t…” Cas trails and bites his lip.

“Don’t what?” Dean asks softly, and Cas looks up at him again. This time, the tears in his eyes are undeniable.

“I was sure that I was dead, Dean. I can’t imagine putting you in that kind of danger.”

“Cas, we’re already in that kind of danger –.”

“Yes, I know, but Dean,” Cas reaches out and places a hand over Dean’s own, which rests on the table, “Dean, if you were killed because of me, I… I don’t know what I’d do.”

Cas is looking at him with a depth that Dean doesn’t even recognize. It makes him nervous and uncomfortable but he can’t bring himself to look away. The weight of Cas’s hand is warm and heavy, and Dean can feel the hairs standing on his arms.

Dean opens his mouth to speak, but he’s speechless. He knows what he wants to say, _I know what that’s like; I’ve seen you die twice now, do you know what that did to me? I can’t lose you again; I don’t care what happens to me. I can’t keep you safe out there. I need you –._

“I need you,” Dean hears himself say, finally, and before the prickling behind his eyes can spill over, he continues, “I can take care of myself, Cas, I’m a grown man, and so is Sam. We can keep Kevin safe, too. You don’t need to feel responsible if anything happens to us, okay? We make our own decisions.”

“But, Dean –.”

“I need you, Cas,” Dean repeats, and he’s surprised at how comfortable the words feel on his tongue, even if his voice cracks in the middle, “I need you to stay.”

Their hands are still pressed together, and Dean doesn’t know what comes over him then, but he flips his palm so that their fingers intertwine. Cas looks at their hands, and then at Dean, and Dean smiles. Cas returns it, barely, but it’s there.

“Please?” It’s a quiet plea, but it sounds like begging, and Dean can’t bring himself to care.

“I suppose,” Cas begins, equally as quiet, “if you insist…”

“I do,” Dean nods, shifting closer, “I do.”

“Then for the time being, I will stay with you.”

Dean’s entire body relaxes with relief at those words, and he moves his hands to cradles Cas’s face. Cas is smiling, and Dean shakes his head.

“You son of a bitch,” he mutters, leaning forward to press their foreheads together. “Thank you, Cas.”

Cas rests his hands on both of Dean’s wrists, and Dean notices that their faces are so close, they’re practically breathing the same air.

“I need you, too,” Cas says, rubbing the skin on his wrist with his thumbs, and if he feels Dean’s radial pulse jump, he doesn’t react to it. “Now, even more so, I think.”

“Damn right you do,” Dean says with a smirk, but then something interesting happens.

Cas pulls their faces together, and kisses him.

Dean doesn’t expect this, and makes a strangled noise in pure surprise. Cas immediately pulls back, worry lines apparent on his forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes, standing up, “sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” he takes a couple steps in the direction of the living room before turning and speed-walking away.

Dean is still stunned, stuck in his chair, and of all the thoughts circulating through the river of emotions he’s been tossed into, the one that surfaces first is, _Did April teach him to kiss like that?_

It takes almost five minutes, but eventually, Dean gets himself to move. He marches toward the living room with unnecessary urgency, but he can’t risk Cas leaving for something as stupid as a kiss. Not that the kiss was stupid. If Dean wasn’t such a coward, he’d admit that he had actually wondered what it would be like to kiss Cas, quite a few times, in fact.

Dean finds Cas sitting on one side of the couch, head bowed, face in his hands. Dean sighs and steps through the threshold of the large room. He takes careful steps, but of course, Cas hears him enter and looks up. His eyes are dry, so he hasn’t been crying.

“Hey,” Dean says casually, like he didn’t just get kissed by an angel.

Well, ex-angel.

“Hi,” Cas replies, fidgeting with the strings on his hoodie. Dean thinks it’s cute, but tries to ignore it. Instead, he plops down next to Cas, closer than he usually would, and places his hands on his lap. They sit in silence for a while, and the only sound in the room is a ticking clock.

“You’re good at that,” Dean says, and he’s pretty sure that’s not what he means to say right then, but it’s too late to take it back now.

“What?” Cas turns his head to look at Dean, squinting in confusion. Dean rolls his eyes.

“Kissing, Cas. You’re good at it.”

“I…you…liked that?”

Dean shrugs in response. He did like it _a little_ , he realizes. Or maybe more than a little. He bounces his leg nervously and tries not to think about that.

“I thought it was an appropriate response to what I was feeling at the moment,” Cas mutters, “what I feel for you.”

Dean stops bouncing his leg. “What you _what?_ ”

“What I feel for you,” Cas repeats, like it’s no big deal, like it doesn’t make Dean want to bolt right then, like it doesn’t make Dean’s heart skip a beat. “I have feelings for you, Dean. Our bond is…”

“Profound?” Dean assumes, and his throat feels dry.”

“Yes, but it’s…different, different from any bond I’ve ever had with a human. Now that I, too, am mortal, I thought it would disappear, but when I saw you again, I knew.”

“Knew what?” Dean asks before he can stop himself. Things are getting really deep, really fast, and Dean can’t believe he’s still in the room.

“That what I felt for you had nothing to do with me pulling you out of perdition,” Cas continues, and he’s staring at Dean like his blue eyes can pierce his very being. “It was simply you, Dean. All along, it was you.”

Dean doesn’t know what to say. What do you say to something like that? _You don’t say anything,_ Dean thinks _. You act._

And so he does.

What gives him the courage to surge forward, Dean may never know, but his hand is on Cas’s neck and their lips are pressed together and Cas isn’t pulling away, so he must be doing something right. Cas’s hands push at Dean’s chest, and before he can register what’s happening, Dean is underneath Cas, their legs tangled, their bodies flush together, and Dean can’t bring himself to stop for anything but air. His hands find the zipper on Cas’s sweatshirt and he pulls until it’s undone, moving his hands to Cas’s shoulders to push it off.

Cas, Dean thinks, must be a fast learner, because his lips move to Dean’s neck and he shrugs off the sweatshirt in no time, like a damn professional. Dean doesn’t have time to appreciate this for long though, because his own shirt soon follows, and then Cas is biting his collarbone.

“Shit,” Dean curses, not because it hurts, but because it feels _really good,_ and Dean’s not sure what to do about it.

“Is this okay?” Cas asks then, and he looks genuinely concerned. Dean brings a hand up to pull Cas back down toward him. He kisses him, slow and sweet, and then looks at him.

“You’re good at that,” Dean whispers, and Cas smiles before leaning back down to kiss Dean again.

They end up in Dean’s bed that night. Nothing more happens, but when Dean wakes up with an armful of Cas the next morning, he doesn’t think he’s ever been more relieved to find that he hadn’t dreamt up the entire ordeal.

“Thank you,” he says, voice hushed, into Cas’s mess of dark hair, and kisses his temple. “Thank you for staying.”


End file.
